


Half Sick of Shadows

by marriedreylo (orphan_account)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Demon Kylo Ren, F/M, Necomancer Kira, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25610893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/marriedreylo
Summary: She is half sick of shadows, he's head over heels. Heavily inspired by the Old Kingdom series and The Shadowhunters Chronicles.A Demon/Necomancer one shot
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: A Picture is worth 1000 Words - PL Summer Exchange





	Half Sick of Shadows

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustYouBenSolo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustYouBenSolo/gifts).



> Josie I hope you love this!

Kylo stops by her dressing room, about five minutes before she’s due to go on. Kira’s rushing around, putting glamours in place, and trying to make sure she looks as human as possible, all while making sure her long hair is curled and styled to perfection. 

“What is it, Kylo?” Kira asks, and she regrets being short with him immediately. His face falls, and he fidgets with something behind his back. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were ready for tonight.” His voice is deceptively soft; Kylo Ren was never soft with anything or anyone—with the occasional exception of his dancers. Being a warlock and running a club that was cloaked in black magic was difficult, and he always made sure everything was running top-notch. His most popular dancer was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. She was beautiful, yes, but moreover—she was a necromancer. 

Kira could use a bandolier of bells to summon  _ the dead _ . Her bandolier was lying on the dressing room table. He summons it to him, the slight tang of warlock magic scenting the air. 

“I told you to get rid of these.” His voice is a dark ache, the ache of someone who does not want to see the person they love destroy themselves. 

She’s standing in front of him, unnaturally still, just eyes moving. He’d forgotten how unsettling it was to have her undivided attention. “They’re a family heirloom.” She gently places her hand on the bells, careful not to ring them. 

Kylo sighs, “Kira, sweetheart, you’re going to get yourself banished to the ninth gate.” His voice is full of longing and pain. As if he knows that she longs to return to her people and pay off her foolish debt. 

“Stop.” She places a hand over his heart. “Just because I made a deal with you, doesn’t mean…” 

“Doesn’t mean what?” Kylo asks and tilts her head up to meet his eyes. 

“It doesn’t mean that I’m beholden to you,  _ that way _ .” Kira’s voice is uncharacteristically mellow—then again that was likely the glamour she had cast over herself. 

Kylo nods, after a beat. “Of course you’re not. I just thought you should know.” He pulls out what he’d been fidgeting with behind his back. It’s a black rose, and she inhales sharply. 

“Kylo… no, you couldn’t possibly.” Kira’s breath is taken away. Not only is it a beautiful gesture, but one that means her freedom is within her grasp. 

He tucks it in her thick, long hair. He’s had it dethorned so it won’t hurt her. “I want you to stay; I want you to  _ be with me _ .” 

Her hand reaches for his, and she pulls it back, just as quickly. “Kylo, I’m going to be late,” she says, suddenly remembering why she’d been rushing around madly only moments before. 

Kylo pouts, “Please, Kira, you need someone in your life, someone  _ whole  _ and  _ good _ . Snoke is going to kill us both,  _ but not if you join me _ .” 

She shakes her head and stalks from the dressing room; she keeps the token of his affection—which also happens to be a powerful magical object full of necromantic spells. 

He’d given her the freedom to choose. Well… she needs to dance, needs to feel the earth-shattering bass of the club, which she’d grown to call home—even if it wasn’t. She is made of black magic, and feeding off the energy of the revelers would give her power. 

As she dances to the pumping base, using her strength to twirl up and down the pole… she casts her mind back to the man who took her in, not knowing what she was—and nurtured her spirit. 

He’d had no ulterior motives, and he’d never tried to take advantage of her weakened state. She was grateful to him—more than grateful. Kylo was right about one thing; they needed to defeat Snoke. Snoke, as he was called in the circles that knew his true name, was a powerful necromancer, not unlike Kira—but without the guidance and goodness, she possessed. Sure, in Kira’s over eight hundred years, she’d done some pretty horrific things. But none of that matters right now. Nothing matters, but the beat and the fact that the most powerful warlock in New York is watching her every move. 

She gives one final slide down the pole, takes a bow, and walks off the stage. She has other dances to do tonight, more hungry and leering eyes to appease. But she wants to feel Kylo’s soft gaze on her for a while. 

Kylo meets Kira in her dressing room. The air is crackling around them both, humming both with magic and Kira’s aura of darkness. Kylo flicks his fingers, and the door locks, a thrill going up her spine. If she is going to betray her master, she might as well do it phenomenally. She wants this;  _ she wants him _ . 

Damn the consequences to hell, this man had protected her, and taken her under his wing. She loves him—against all odds, against fate. Because surely she is not  _ supposed  _ to love him. 

She’s standing directly in front of him, her eyes diverted away from him. He takes her chin and makes her eyes meet his. 

“Don’t look away,  _ not from me _ ,” he begs her. Her beautiful, electric green eyes meet his nearly black ones. There’s a crackle, a spark, and dream born between them. “Why did you hide your love from me?” Kylo’s voice is clear and ringing in her ears. 

“What I feel for you,” she says, putting her hand on his chest, “will consume the earth in darkness and fire. I love you, darkly, truly, madly.” 

A smirk curves his lips. “Good.” And then he’s kissing her, with the same ferocity of the blackness in her veins. She doesn’t taste like darkness. She tastes like sunshine, and he can’t believe it. 

They stay like that, his fingers tangling into her hair, and hers in his shoulder-length, black hair. They could’ve stayed like that for  _ ages _ . But the harsh knock on the door breaks them from their reverie. 

Snoke’s men fan into the room, their necromantic bells poised to be rung and kill everyone in the room. Kira’s own bandolier is close by… if she could just reach for it… she could save them. She needs only the smallest of the bells to bind them to her will. 

Kylo flourishes his fingers, and the room seems to freeze. Time stops. She grabs  _ kireth _ , the smallest bell, and summons the power innately held in the bell. She rings it once, and she wills them  _ dead _ . 

They drop like flies. 

“Thank you, darling,” she purrs. 

“Anytime.” Kylo flourishes his fingers once more, and the bodies disappear. These are pretty shoddy hitmen, if they hadn’t thought to cast spells of protection on themselves to ward against warlock magic. But maybe there is more to this.  _ Maybe _ they hadn’t thought that Kira would team up with a warlock.  _ They didn’t know about the deal _ . 

The blood promise they had shared was simple. It had been struck nearly a year ago, on a full moon, and would expire soon. Kira had run into a binding spell, which had bound her to the ninth gate; she’d almost gone over—into true death. But the binding spell had given way, clearly not properly cast, and she’d rushed forward into the warmth of life again. Kylo had found her. Her spirit was diluted, and she would need many months of recovery. So he’d done it. He’d nursed her back to health, and the only thing he’d asked was that she dance for him. 

Necromantic magic often lent itself to seduction. But the sway of her hips and the beat of the music over nearly twelve months had hypnotized Kylo. Not that he didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what he was signing up for. There had never been any question in either of their minds, that they would fall in love, even if it burned the world to the ground. 

“Should we go pay Snoke a visit?” Kira puts her hands on her hips, and gives them a little shake.

“Not until I’ve had my fill of you,” Kylo says with a wide grin. 

So they feast on each other. He pulls aside her skimpy dancing outfit, which was designed to show as much skin as possible, and exposes her breasts and her perfect, pink pussy. Her breath catches in her throat, and all she can think is that he’s wearing  _ far _ too many clothes. 

“I want to see you, all of you,” Kira sighs. 

Kylo slides one thick finger into her, and she wriggles against him. “ _ More _ ,” she pants. 

Kylo grins his perfect panty dropping smirk.  _ She loves him _ … she loves him more than she loves herself. 

He slides another finger into her, and she moans her desire.

They spend the night, limbs tangled, not knowing where one person begins and the other ends—as close as two people can be. 

When the grey of the summertime dawn reaches them, they’re sated, but they know what they have to do. 

Killing Snoke might kill them both, and as Kira nods to Kylo on their way out the door—she knows she made the right decision to confess her love, rather than be buried and have him never know. 

_ But _ … they don’t die. 

Not even close. 

When they’re wed nearly six months later, they pay tribute to the warlocks and necromancers who died during the war against Snoke. They raise their glasses, and Kira and Kylo are one—with each other and with inexorable magic that now binds them together in marriage, and eternal love. 

**Author's Note:**

> yeeeet.


End file.
